


Cells, Clones, and Chances

by elderwitty, squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, SGA Secret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3105311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderwitty/pseuds/elderwitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story takes place in the aftermath of <i>Search and Rescue</i> in which Rodney worries about John, as Carson gives him a history lesson to put things into perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cells, Clones, and Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Krystalicekitsu (hotrodngold)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotrodngold/gifts).



> Written for SGA Secret Santa. The history lesson Rodney gets is actually real, if you want to read up on the subject afterward; it's a fascinating read.

Rodney's pacing falters occasionally as flashes from the last few weeks bob to the surface of his ever-churning brain. Trying to discover who had altered and disseminated the Hoffan virus, desperately searching for a kidnapped, and _very_ pregnant, Teyla, and the terrific shock of finding a Carson clone at Michael's research facility; it had been both physically taxing as well as a rollercoaster of emotions. 

Rodney shakes his head, thinking that he hasn't been this emotionally strung out since Sheppard nearly turned into a bug. He's exhausted. As usual. He's worried. As usual. It's all Sheppard's fault. As usual. His best friend is in surgery to patch up the damage from having a imploded warehouse collapse on him, and then going on a rescue mission while held together with gauze and medical tape. If he believed in such superstitious nonsense, he'd worry that Sheppard might have finally used up the last of his nine lives.

As he turns to pace the other way, a scientist races into the infirmary. It's a botanist he hasn't had many dealings with, since most of the department has been shunning him for dumping Katy Brown. 

The tall, slender scientist comes to as abrupt halt when he sees Rodney. "Doctor McKay! Where's my... I mean, where's Major Lorne?"

Rodney gives the agitated man, Parrish if memory serves (which it usually does, even on trivial things like an underling's name, not that he'd ever admit that - especially to 'Zalebka') a quick onceover as he considers the question asked, as well as the one unspoken. "I think Lorne... _Evan_ is in surgery right now. Biro's operating, so, you know... Nothing to worry about." Rodney awkwardly pats Parrish's arm, hoping that it's a comforting move.

"Do you know if there's anyone I can talk to?"

Rodney nods to an office in the back corner. "Carson's not officially back to active duty status, but he probably knows what's going on."

David nods and looks relieved. "Thanks, Rodney." Halfway to Carson's office he turns back. "How is your - I mean, how is the Colonel?"

"Good, good," Rodney replies, feeling heat suffuse his cheeks. "But he's not my..." Sighing, he says, "John's just a friend."

David Parrish looks surprised, and then it's his turn to blush. "I'm sorry, Rodney. I just thought..."

Rodney smiles sardonically and waves off David's apology. When he finally manages to find his voice again, his words come out barely above a whisper. "Hey, at least one of us has what he wants." When he finally makes himself meet Parrish's eyes, he gets a sympathetic nod. 

"David, lad," Carson Beckett calls from the doorway of his tiny office. "I was wondering when you'd be back. Come in, son, and I'll fill you in on Evan's progress."

David gives Rodney a weak smile before disappearing behind Carson's closed door, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again.

< > < > < > < > < >

Rodney calls for someone to bring him a datapad, hoping to keep his mind busy while John lingers in surgery. After twenty minutes of trying to focus on the specs for upgrading the compression algorithm, Rodney hears Carson's office door open. 

Carson is using his most soothing tone, the one that he thinks inspires the most confidence. "He'll be in recovery for about an hour, son, but you can see him now."

He quickly pretends to be typing notes for Zelenka. Moments later Carson clears his throat and Rodney looks up to find a worried Scotsman gazing down at him. "It's going to be at least another hour, Rodney. You should lay down and get some rest. I'll wake you up when he comes out of it."

Rodney closes his datapad on the gibberish he'd just typed. "No, no. I'll be fine. It's just..." He heaves a sigh and stands up. "Can we, maybe, go talk?"

Carson's left eyebrow shoots up quizzically. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, yes," he says impatiently. "It's just- I want to talk to someone - to you - if that's okay." After a beat, he adds, "In private."

"Very well." Carson heads for his office with Rodney hot on his heels. He closes the door and gestures Rodney to a chair. "What's on your mind?"

Rodney looks around the cramped space as he tries to figure out how to say what he wants. He finally blurts out, "You were dead, right?"

"Rodney," Carson sighs and scrubs his face with his palms. 

"No, no. Hear me out," he adds, wringing his hands. "Not this _you_ , but you know... The previous iteration. Of you. I know, because I helped take you back to Earth. Well, previous you."

"Rodney, if you're afraid that the Colonel might die, you needn't worry. Dr. Keller is perfectly capable, or she wouldn't be the Chief of Medicine." Carson opens his lower desk drawer, looking surprised to find it empty. 

"Sorry," Rodney says. "After you... Well, after _previous_ you died, we shared the rest of that bottle you had stashed. Us. The team. In your honor."

Carson gives Rodney a smile, complete with crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and says, "Well, then. You lot owe me a bottle of scotch. A _good_ one."

Rodney smiles back. "I already ordered a case for the next Daedalus supply run." Even as he smiles, he feels his insides turn over with worry, which worsens when an overhead page calls for more blood to the OR. The smile slides off his face as he drops his gaze to the floor.

"Rodney," Carson says, sympathetically.

"Second chance," Rodney says. When he finally dares a look, Carson merely looks quizzical. "You got a second chance, Carson. It might not look like it to you, but you did. You died, but now you're back, and you have a chance to make changes. Changes that mean something to you."

"Lad," Carson says, trying to catch Rodney's eyes. "Have you ever heard of Henrietta Lacks?"

Rodney purses his lips in thought. "Lacks, Lacks... Was she on the original expedition?"

"No, she wasn't. As a matter of fact, Henrietta Lacks died over fifty years ago. But she's had a bigger impact on your life in Pegasus than you know. More than anyone else, probably." With a small smile, Carson adds, "Well, barring one."

"So who was she?" Rodney asks, wondering why Carson is telling him about someone who'd been dead for decades. He wishes he'd saved some of that scotch, because he could use it right about now.

"Henrietta Lacks was a young black woman in Virginia. She'd been experiencing abdominal pain, but ignored it. When she finally went to the doctor in 1951, she was diagnosed with terminal cervical cancer. She was dead within six months."

"If you're trying to cheer me up, Carson, this isn't the way to go," Rodney blurts out as he starts to stand up. Carson puts a hand on his shoulder, easing him back into his chair.

"A doctor took a sample of the tumor to study. Until then, cells never lived long in a lab. But Henrietta's? They didn't just live, they flourished. They're so remarkable that they have their own name, HeLa cells."

"Yeah, but it's not her," Rodney challenges, defiantly sticking his chin out. "It's just a glob of cells in a petri dish."

"That is true," Carson says. "But because of this remarkable woman, the medical community has been able to help millions of people. Her cells were used to create the polio vaccine. To make advances in fields as different as vaccines and cloning."

Leaning back in the chair, Rodney asks, "So - you're saying that when the Colonel dies, we can use his cells to clone him? Maybe make more vaccines?" The very thought of losing John - _his_ John that laid unconscious on the operating table - gave Rodney a shiver down his spine, but Carson's train of thought seemed downright barbaric.

Carson rubs his temple and sighs. "No, Rodney. I'm trying to answer your question. I did get a second chance. While Henrietta didn't get a second life, her HeLa cells are helping people and keeping them alive to this day. I used her cells to develop the ATA gene therapy." He nods toward the door. "And the therapy that Colonel Sheppard is getting right now to save his life. All based on the dearly departed Henrietta Lacks. As for me, I got my second chance from Mrs. Lacks' cells, and I plan on making the most of it." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Did you know that I never asked Laura Cadman out? Well, _the old me_ never asked her out. I meant to, but... Well, I have that second chance now don't I?"

Rodney's chair scrapes across the floor as he shoves it back. "Thank you for the history lesson, but I've got work to do." His thoughts about what he's missing out on have been replaced by frustration.

"Rodney," Carson says, demanding his attention with the power of his voice.

"What?" Rodney impatiently responds.

Carson says sternly, "You won't need a second chance if you never take the first one."

Rodney begins to turn the slightest shade of pink as his eyes aim a hopeful plea towards his friend, the words suddenly tearing at his heart. He catches himself, and quickly tries to tuck his heart back in from wearing it on his sleeve. As he straightens his posture, he gives Carson a forced smirk. "So what, I'm supposed to go stand in front of all of the women that drool over him?" he asks, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat.

Smiling, Carson stands up and reaches out for Rodney, squeezing his shoulder gently as he quietly cocks his head to the side and says, "It's funny, lad, but I never see the Colonel date _any_ of those women." 

There's another squeeze of the shoulder and a wink as Rodney stands there, jaw gaping open and closed like a landed perch tossed onto the summer-warmed boards of an ancient dock. It takes a few second, but Rodney finally manages to grind out, " _Carson_!"

"Come on, lad," Carson says, cutting him off. "Let's go see if John is out of surgery yet."

< > < > < > < > < >

It takes Colonel Sheppard a couple of weeks to get back to his normal, snarky self, and Rodney can be found nearby for most of them. He makes sure that Sheppard goes to his physical therapy appointments instead of shirking them like he usually does. He also pesters John about eating regularly and getting enough sleep.

Rodney shows up at the end of John's last scheduled PT session, bouncing on his heels and grinning at him. 

"What's up, Rodney?" 

Instead of responding, Rodney turns to the physical therapist. "So? Is he fit for his regular duties and such?"

Sofia Rasmussen, who has stretched, bent, and hounded Rodney on multiple occasions while he recovered from injuries, considers her current patient. "Yeah," she finally says, taking the medicine ball from the Colonel. "He's cleared to return to duty tomorrow."

Clapping his hands once, Rodney turns to John. "Well?" he demands, holding out John's boots. "Chop chop, Sheppard. We've got things to do."

John takes the boots with a perplexed expression. He slips his feet into them, not bothering to tie the laces as Rodney chivvies him toward the door. "Things to do?" John says. "If you wanted me to play light switch for you, McKay, you should've asked while I was on light duty."

"Nothing like that," Rodney scoffs. "It's your last free day, and I want to make the most of it."

John jolts to a halt. " _Make the_ \- am I dying? Are _you_ dying?" When Rodney keeps walking he leans against the wall and crosses his arms. " _Rawd_ ney," he half whines.

Rodney finally turns around and comes back. He's glad the hall isn't as brightly lit as the PT room, because he's pretty sure he's blushing to high heaven. "Look. I just... I want to do something nice for you. Before you get thrown back in the thick of everything."

When Rodney stops, John rolls his hand and says, "And..."

"I got some of that Athosian ale you like. And I traded the redheaded chef a pound of Kona beans for some turkey - real turkey from Earth - and three bags of Movie Theater popcorn with extra butter. And I've got Season Three of the new Doctor Who to binge watch." Rodney finally takes a breath. "You know, if you want to."

Sheppard quirks a smile at Rodney. He leans off the wall and they start down the corridor. As they approach the transporter, John rubs the back of his neck. "So, um, is this a team thing?"

Rodney stutter-steps as he turns around, his hand brushing against the call button they'd set up so non-ATA gene holders can use the system. Thinking about his ATA gene, HeLa cells, and chances not taken, he says, "We, uh. We can if you want to. But I was really hoping that it could just be - you know - us." He hunches his shoulders as he waves his hand across the door sensor, avoiding looking at John.

He's about to step in when fingers trace an unknown pattern across his palm before interlacing with his own. Rodney looks down at their clasped hands, and then dares a glance at the man he's finally risking a chance on. What he sees is an impish smile and soulful eyes that can't quite hide a hint of relief.

John squeezes Rodney's hand as he pulls him into the transporter. He presses a spot on the map, then leans in for a quick kiss. "Cool."


End file.
